Tony Barnstone

I've swallowed sobs for the lost dead,
but this live separation is chronic grief.
From the malarial south of the river
no news comes of the exiled traverler,
but you visit my dream, old friend
knowing I ache for you.
Are you a ghost?
No way to tell with the long road between us.
Your spirit comes through green maple woods
slips home past darkening border fortresses.
You are caught in the law's net,
so how can your spirit have wings?
The sinking moon pours onto the rafters
and your face glows in my mind.
The water is deep,the waves are wide.
Don't let the dragons snatch you!

Sitting alone in the dark bamboo,
I play my zither and whistle song.
Deep in the wood no one knows
the bright moon is shining on me.

Nobody in sight on the empty mountain
but the human voices are heard far off
Low sun slips deep in the forest
and lights the green hanging moss.

A pot of wine in the flower garden,
but no friends  to drink with me.
So I raise my cup to the bright moon
and to my shadow, which make us three,
But the moon won’t drink
And my shadow just creeps about my heels.
Yet in your company, moon and shadow,
I have a wild time till spring dies out.
I sing and the moon shudders.
My shadow staggers when I dance.
We have our fun while I can stand
Then drift apart when I fall asleep.
Let’s shared this empty journey often
and meet again in the milky river of stars.